


Listening Comprehension

by Garonne



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Telepathy, erik speaking german
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garonne/pseuds/Garonne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik loves Charles for precisely the same reason he fears him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listening Comprehension

Erik slipped from the bed, pulled on Charles' robe and padded across the bedroom to throw open the curtains and let in the morning light from the garden. Behind him he heard Charles stir, and turned back to face him.

Charles looked utterly dishevelled. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed and on his shoulder was a raised red bitemark Erik distinctly remembered putting there. The bedsheets were a mess too, just as rumpled as Charles was. Erik had very much enjoyed mussing him up, last night and again this morning. 

"Come back to bed," Charles said.

Erik did, but only to stoop over Charles and press a kiss to his lips. Then he drew back.

"You're going for a run with Hank this morning, remember?"

Charles groaned.

Erik gave him a deliberately mild look.

"You're meeting him in about five minutes in fact, I believe."

"What?"

Charles shot out of bed and into the bathroom.

"You might have told me what time it was before, Erik!" he called over the sound of running water. "You let me doze off again."

"You're the one who switched off the alarm clock this morning, if I remember correctly," Erik said, not mentioning that he'd dozed off again too.

Charles' head emerged around the bathroom door for a second, his mouth covered in toothpaste foam.

"I couldn't get up when it rang," he said with dignity. "I was otherwise occupied,"

"So you were," Erik said, heat coiling in the pit of his stomach just at the memory.

He started to put the bed in order. Charles' alarm clock seemed to have ended up on the floor along with the contents of his bedside table. Erik set most of that to rights with a flick of his hand, but he had to bend to pick up Charles' books. There were three of them: _Charlotte's Web,_ the Feynman Lectures on Physics, and a book of German grammar.

The last book made him freeze in place. His throat clenched around a sudden, hard-edged surge of dismay. Charles was learning German. Charles would be able to read his mind.

Behind him, he heard Charles emerge from the bathroom. He came up behind Erik to give him a quick kiss on the nape of the neck, before starting to scramble into his tracksuit.

Erik just stood there, staring at the grammar book in his hand. In his insides waged a war between growing horror and a strong impulse to laugh at himself, the latter because he was probably being ridiculous. He didn't even know whether thinking in German was any sort of defense against Charles at all. Charles hadn't seemed to have much of a problem reading minds in Moscow.

"See you at breakfast, Erik," Charles said, leaning in for a quick kiss on the lips this time.

Then he was gone. Erik placed the books carefully back on the bedside table.

Charles had organised a particularly intense training programme for that day, and Erik hardly had time to think between breakfast and dinner. He scarcely saw Charles either, spending most of the day with Sean, who still refused to jump off the roof without Erik around to catch him if he fell. When they all finally gathered around the dinner table that evening, everyone was quiet, tired out from the day's exertions. They dispersed quickly afterwards, Erik and Charles retiring as usual to the library.

Charles threw himself onto the sofa, letting his arms flop out dramatically on either side of him.

"God, I'm exhausted. Don't think I can even summon up the energy to trounce you at chess tonight, Erik."

Erik shot him an amused look. When they'd met at dinner he'd been pleased to find he'd almost managed to suppress the unease Charles' German grammar book had wakened in him that morning. This thing with Charles was like nothing he'd ever known before, and he wanted to savour every moment of it while it lasted -- however long it lasted. Part of him was starting to want 'forever', but he knew better than to indulge that idea. This evening he was content just to live in the present, and to enjoy Charles looking at him with that half-sleepy, half-cocky expression.

"What a shame," he said dryly. "You must have been looking forward to breaking your losing streak."

Charles threw a sofa cushion at him.

Erik picked it up and moved to put it back on the sofa, knowing perfectly well that Charles would grab him and pull him down on top of him as soon as Erik was within range.

It felt wonderful to lie over Charles and kiss him soundly, and just as good to finally roll off him and collapse onto the sofa beside him, and settle down to read together.

Charles was reading _Invisible Man_ , but Erik soon heard the cadence of his breathing change. The book slipped into Charles' lap. Erik gave him a nudge.

"You'll get a crick in your neck if you fall asleep there."

Charles stirred. 

"Just resting my eyes," he protested, but sleepily.

"You'd be more comfortable on my lap," Erik said, and it took very little persuasion to get Charles curled up on his side, his head in Erik's lap.

Erik went on reading for a few minutes, but he was tired too, and it was much more pleasant to lay aside his book and sit studying Charles: the way his hair flopped forward over his smooth forehead, the flush of red where his skin was pressing against Erik's leg, the tiny triangle of skin where Charles' shirt collar fell open. Charles had his eyes closed, and Erik was free to study him at his leisure.

 _Ach, die kleinen Sommersprossen,_ he thought, noticing a faint sprinkling of freckles on Charles' left eyelid. _Hab' sie bisher nie bemerkt._

And then Charles' eyes flicked open and he blinked self-consciously.

Erik stiffened.

"You understood that."

"What?"

"You understood what I was thinking. You're learning German, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. I am. But that's not how I could understand you just now." Charles was half-smiling up at him, looking bemused at the forceful note in Erik's voice. "You think _A Beginner's German Grammar_ contains the word 'freckle'?" 

"So why -- " Erik began.

"I just got a general impression of you thinking about my eyelids and freckles." He shrugged, his arm shifting across Erik's thigh. "I didn't mean to startle you. Just couldn't help it, I'm afraid. You were thinking particularly strongly about it." The last was said in a teasing voice, with a teasing smile to go with it.

Erik's own voice sounded cold and brittle to his ears when he answered.

"I meant, why are you learning German?"

Charles' eyes widened. He sat up abruptly, wriggling away from Erik so that they were sitting facing each other on the sofa.

"What's the matter, Erik?"

"What do you think the matter is? I told you to stay out of my head."

Charles' expression was wary now, his brow creased in a deepening frown.

"I know. I promised I would, and I have."

"Oh? And yet you seem to be well aware I always think in German."

"Well, it's quite probable you would, at least some of the time."

But evidently he could tell from Erik's set face that that wouldn't be enough of an answer.

"All right, it's more because -- Sometimes when you're particularly... worked up, and I'm particularly... distracted -- "

"What?"

Charles cleared his throat, but then he didn't speak. Instead he pushed a babble of incoherent thoughts at Erik. _Mein Gott ist er schoen, ist er herrlich schoen... ich muss -- ich brauch' --_ accompanied by all the feelings that had coursed through Erik when he thought those words: lust and need and wonder, and an image of Charles spread out naked on the bed beneath him, his head thrown back, Erik's name on his lips.

Erik could tell Charles didn't understand exactly what he'd just said, but it was clear he'd got the general gist of it. There was a hint of amusement in Charles' thoughts too, like he was saying swear words in a foreign language.

Erik was reminded of every single time he'd lain in bed with Charles and thought nothing in life could be better, up to and including this morning. Had their final time together already passed without him realising?

Charles was watching him closely now, his expression growing warier.

"Look, I'm not quite sure what's upset you, precisely, but I've been meaning to learn German for years. Very useful for reading scientific journals, you know. _Medizinische Wochenschrift_ and so on. And of course because we'll want to travel, to recruit, once we've dealt with Shaw. You seem to speak every language under the sun. I feel a bit embarrassed I can't do the same."

"Then shouldn't you be learning one of the many languages I don't speak?" Erik said dryly.

Charles' face twisted into a sheepish smile.

"All right, I'll admit it. It's mostly because I associate it with you. And with sex. A sort of Pavlovian response." He shot Erik a wicked grin. But then his expression slowly turned serious again, and he was looking at Erik with some strange, unexpected mixture of shyness and warmth in his eyes. "And I thought that now we're -- whatever we are, then it was something I should do. All of your happiest memories are in German."

And his worst, but how like Charles not to say it.

Erik wanted to pull Charles to him and kiss him for that earnest, heartfelt look. But he did nothing. This conversation was far from over, and he was dreading what would come next.

Charles spoke into the silence.

"But why are you angry now? Why do you -- " 

His voice trailed off. 

Erik didn't need to be telepathic to feel like he could hear the cogwheels suddenly start to whirr in Charles' mind, as he put together everything Erik had said since the start of the conversation. He could almost feel the moment when Charles stiffened mentally.

"This is because you're afraid I'm reading your mind," Charles said slowly. "You hope that if you're thinking in German, then maybe I can't."

He looked sick now, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Erik couldn't stand to see it anymore. He looked down at his lap, where Charles had been sprawled just a minute before.

"I thought you might be pleased, actually," Charles went on, still slowly. "Touched, even. I mean, that I would go to all that trouble just for -- pretty silly reasons, really. Just because I -- I love you." Out of the corner of his eye Erik saw Charles' head come up. "I didn't realise German was some kind of defense for you, a defense against me. You don't trust me, do you?"

Erik couldn't go on staring, cowardly, at his lap. He met Charles' eye, faced the sickness and pain there, and wondered what Charles was reading in his.

Charles' voice, when he spoke, was tinged with a sorrow that made Erik's heart clench.

"I've only deliberately gone into your mind once, Erik, and that was with your permission."

"And also in the sea," Erik couldn't help but point out.

"That was on the spur of the moment, to save your life!"

"And all the other times I've apparently accidentally 'projected' something at you."

"That was never deliberate. I would never -- "

Erik cut him off. 

"I know, Charles. I know you wouldn't. I never thought you would."

Charles looked taken aback.

"Oh."

Erik's heart was in his mouth now, knowing Charles still hadn't understood the worst of it. But he was on the brink of understanding.

"So you don't think I -- But then... the problem is not even whether I do it or not. It's that I can."

Erik could only look him straight in the eye, and watch Charles crumple inwardly.

"Erik, that's who I am."

"I know, Charles. I would never want you to change."

Charles closed his eyes for a long moment.

"It's not that you don't _want_ to trust me. It's -- only that you can't."

Erik had nothing to say to that.

Charles put a hand to his head in a way that spoke of a headache, not the exercise of his powers. 

"I'm tired," he said in a dull voice. "I'm going to bed."

That night Erik slept in the room he hadn't used in weeks. The bed was cold and empty and he woke with a tight, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The following day they didn't see each other at all during the daylight hours. Erik breakfasted at the usual time, but Hank told him Charles was already with Raven in the gym. He was at dinner, however, and afterwards Erik followed him to the library upon Charles' quiet invitation.

Charles sat down at the chess table, so Erik took the seat opposite. They'd cleared away the chess set after their last game, and now the table was bare. Charles was looking down at the polished mahogany surface.

"It wouldn't work, anyway, your strategy," he said in a low voice. "I mean, if I accidentally catch a stray thought in a language I don't speak, I don't fully understand it. But if I want to I only have to go a tiny bit deeper."

"I see," Erik said, though he'd almost known it all along.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like he'd slept as little as Erik had.

"But there are other things that would work, you know. Raven told me -- " He looked up, straight into Erik's eyes. "Raven told me that when Shaw broke into the CIA base, he was wearing a helmet, something that was apparently meant to protect him against my powers."

Erik knew it wasn't something he was suggesting Erik try, even if that was what it sounded like. It was something Charles was afraid of.

"Charles, if I wore something like that -- " He shook his head abruptly. "I wouldn't. You'd hate it."

Erik could see Charles relax, even though clearly Charles had been trying not to show his tension before.

Erik went on, "I can't even imagine what that would feel like for you. Probably as if I weren't there, as if I were -- "

"Dead," Charles finished, softly.

"Like I said, you'd hate it." 

They sat there in silence for a minute. Erik looked at Charles, thinking of all the many things he loved him for. For his ready charm on tap and the contrast with the rare, true emotion he saved for Erik. For his stupid, ignorant arrogance and the brilliance that justified it. For his tenderness, his carelessness, his insufferable smugness. For his beautiful body and terrible cardigans. He knew that one of the things he loved Charles for was his mutation -- and feared him for it too.

Erik felt as though his heart would implode in his chest.

 _Charles_ he thought, projecting as hard as he could. _Charles?_

Charles' eyes widened abruptly. His face had paled.

 _Come in,_ Erik thought. 

He saw Charles swallow.

"Erik?" he said aloud.

Erik went on pushing thoughts at him. 

_Come on, Charles. Komm her. Komm mal 'rein._

"Are you sure?" Charles asked, still out loud.

 _Charles,_ he thought impatiently.

"I can't change, Erik, and neither can you."

_I know. But I want to try._

Charles' eyes softened then.

He reached out across the table and took Erik's hand. A second later, Erik felt Charles' mind touch his, gentle and affectionate, terrifying and unsettling, needy and desperate, warm and loving.

.. .. ..

It was only months later when Erik put on the helmet for the first time, and felt Charles suddenly vanish from his mind, leaving a gaping, aching hole. He did it out of the necessity of the moment, the need to keep the helmet from Shaw, and to keep his mind clear while he killed Shaw. But there was something weirdly freeing about it too, like cutting into a wound to clean it.

Years later, Erik often remembered that conversation in the library. He thought of it every time he looked at Charles through the space between two dark lines of metal, when Charles' mind was as dead to him as his to Charles. As he was to Charles.

The hole where Charles had been never healed. In many ways, he didn't want it to. Some tiny part of him still hoped there'd come a day when he'd lay off the helmet once more, and let Charles in.


End file.
